


Mi Hermano

by kikabennet



Category: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Genre: Babies, Babysitting, Brothers, Canon Gay Relationship, F/M, Family, Gay Character, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 00:13:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14343903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikabennet/pseuds/kikabennet
Summary: Just a quick fic of baby Diego and his brother Dante and the blended Mendoza-Quintana family. Not enough AriDante fic here





	Mi Hermano

It will forever amaze me how Dante sleeps through anything. I actually hear the little gasps and shuffles before the faint wailing starts. Dante is face down in the pillow next to me, sleeping like a baby. Unlike a baby is more like it, since the actual baby has been fretful since we laid him down.

I get up from the bed and pad barefoot across the room to the crib where Diego is starting to angrily wave his small fists around. He is a beautiful baby. The most beautiful baby I've ever seen. Light brown skin and a wild mess of dark hair and big knowing dark eyes. Dante's eyes. 

"Shh..." I whisper sleepily, scooping him up and holding him against me. Having a slew of nieces and nephews, I knew how to hold an infant. I'd had practice. 

It had taken Dante a while. He was afraid of dropping him, but once he had his new brother in his arms, his hands knew just what to do.

"Kind of like holding a football," he'd said quietly, grinning, making all of us laugh.

Dante's parents were out of town for a seminar in Houston. They had planned on taking Diego, but it would have been a hassle, so my parents had volunteered to keep him. It was actually kind of amazing how our families had sort of blended into one. Soledad and Sam even referred to my parents as Tio Jaime and Tia Lily when addressing them to the baby.

"You want to go to Tia Lily?" Dante's mother would coo in a sing-song voice, passing him over while our mothers had coffee together.

"Ari?" Dante rolled over onto his back, his voice foggy with sleep.

"It's okay," I said quietly. "He's okay."

He didn't feel wet so I assumed he was hungry. Dante sat up, staring into space, still in a universe between being asleep and being awake, but when I moved to sit back on the bed holding Diego, he came to. 

"Is he alright?" He asked, genuine worry in his eyes and sleepy voice.

"He's hungry, I think," I said. "Take him for a minute? I'm going to go warm up his bottle."

Dante took his little brother and kissed him on his head and then on his face, rocking him slightly. I left my bedroom and moved downstairs. Legs followed me. She liked the baby, but she also knew the kitchen meant food. 

My own parents were gone for the night. Mateo, my third nephew, had had to have his appendix removed. Appendicitis. He was fine now, but my parents had quickly called the hotel where the Quintanas were staying and explained the situation, apologizing for having to leave. Surprisingly, Dante's parents were perfectly fine with the idea of leaving Diego to us for the night. Of course, they were aware that I had lent a hand in raising my nieces and nephews, but even so. Children, especially young newborn children, were so new to Dante.

I warmed the bottle on the stove and gave Legs a slice of bologna from the fridge. When I returned, Dante was lying back down, Diego on his chest, whimpering softly. I sat down and Dante sat up. I passed him the bottle.

"I love him, Ari," Dante said. "I love him so much."

"Of course you do," I said. "He's your brother."

Diego sucked on the bottle, breathing heavily, staring up at his brother with matching eyes. His little fingers gripped one of Dante's.

"This is fun," he said. "Taking care of him."

"Waking up to his crying?" I teased and Dante rolled his eyes.

"Wiseass," he said affectionately.

"We should watch him more often," I said. "This is kind of nice."

"It's really nice," he agreed.

When Diego was done, he let us know by coughing. Dante put him on his shoulder and patted him until he burped. My mother called the noise a bubble. Dante's father called it a belch. 

Diego let out a long, content sigh followed by a tiny sneeze. 

"Bless you," Dante whispered, kissing him again. He loved kissing Diego as much as he loved kissing me. Maybe more.

We both sat against the headboard of my bed, staring at the roll a way crib near the door. Legs returned to the room and jumped on the bed, licking my face first and then Dante's before sniffing the baby. Dante petted her with his free hand. She settled near our feet, keeping watch.

"Do you think she knows Diego's a baby?" I wondered out loud.

"I think she does," Dante said. 

We were both growing tired, Diego's deep breathing lulling us back to a sleepy haze. 

"Here," I said, lying down, getting comfortable under the covers. "Put him between us."

"What if we squish him?" Dante was whispering, but he sounded horrified. 

"My parents used to keep me in the bed with them," I told him. "And my sisters. And my brother. We never got squished."

Dante hesitated, but he finally settled too. We kept distance from each other just in case we might roll over and sandwich the baby, but Dante reached across and held my hand. He also entangled our feet. It was one of his favorite things to do when we slept in the bed together. He told me it was so he would always wake up when I was getting out of bed because he never wanted to wake up and me not be there. Dante could be really weird sometimes.

\-----

"Boys?" A soft knock sounded at my bedroom door. 

It had embarrassed me the first couple of times for my parents to barge in on us in bed together. We had never been doing anything except sleeping or reading or doing homework, but it was still awkward. Now my parents knocked.

I got up and opened the door. My father peeked around me and asked in Spanish, "How is he?"

"Good," I said in English because Dante didn't speak very good Spanish. "He's asleep."

"Sorry we're back so late," my mother said, appearing beside him.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Four-thirty," she answered. 

"How's Matty?" I asked.

"He's fine," my mother said. "Your sister was a nervous wreck, but he's alright. He's enjoying all of the special attention."

She crept over to the bed to peek at Dante and Diego. She smiled at the sleeping brothers, Diego snuggled up against his brother, bottom in the air. Their faces were close together, both of their mouths open. My mother smiled.

"I wish their parents could see," she said. "I wish I had a camera."

"No trouble?" My father asked.

"No," I said simply. "He woke up a few times, but he always fell right back asleep."

"We kept you in the bed with us," my mother told me. "You actually slept in the bed with us until you were almost three!"

"I did?" I asked.

The baby whimpered and stirred again and I instinctively moved to get him knowing Dante would not budge. A parade could come through the room and he wouldn't hear it. 

"I got him," my father said, which surprised me. 

He quietly took the baby from the bed and cradled him against him, murmuring things into his hair. I liked seeing my father with Diego. I had always known he liked babies. I had seen him with my nieces and nephews, but this was different. This was a baby he had no obligation to and he loved him. My mother too. They loved Diego the way they loved Dante. If I went a week without calling Dante they would get nosey and call the Quintanas to ask if everything was okay between us. They gave Dante birthday and Christmas gifts. They stocked the kitchen with food he liked. 

Dante's parents were the same. I was not as open as Dante, but they treated me like another son. Diego was the same, only he was the first. I had been adopted into the Quintana family. Dante had been adopted into the Mendoza family. Diego was a Quintana-Mendoza in a way. He would never know any different. 

"Precioso," My mother said as my father passed him to her. 

After they left my room, I climbed back into bed and snuggled up against Dante who said something in his sleep, but I didn't know what. Legs looked at him and then at me. I called her up to the head of the bed to take Diego's place. 

\-----

"Where's Diego?" Dante asked groggily around six am. 

"You're awake?" I asked, always a light sleeper. Dante joked that when I woke up it was like I had never even been asleep. 

"Where's Diego?" He repeated.

"My parents are home," I told him. "They came and got him."

Dante rolled over onto his side and I did the same. He blinked heavily and said, "I can at least use you as a human heater now."

He wriggled against me and I felt his feet ensnare mine. He kissed my nose. 

"When Diego gets a little older," I said. "We should take him out into the desert."

"Definitely," Dante said matter of factly. 

I could almost imagine Diego a few years down the road, old enough to walk and talk and feed himself, but still young enough to be amazed by anything. I had a very hazy memory of my own brother when I was four. For years I'd wondered if it was just a recurring dream I'd convinced myself of being memory, but after the ghost of Bernardo had disappated and he was talked about again, my mother had confirmed that it was in fact a memory. 

I remember being three or four, sitting outside in the backyard with Bernardo. He had an industrial camping flashlight and would stand it up on the back patio and tell me he could climb the beam of light. I remember thinking it was the most amazing trick in the universe, even though he told me it only worked if I turned around and didn't peek. I would do it too. I would turn all the way around and squeeze my eyes shut.

"Ari!" He would call. "I'm climbing it, Bro! I'm climbing the flashlight beam! I'm so high!"

"Don't fall!" I would yell back, still not looking. "Nardo, don't fall!"

\-----

Two weeks later, we had baby Diego again, this time at Dante's house. We had him again the following month, and two nights the next month. We were becoming routine caregivers. Sometimes Dante would be busy with swim team and I would just be bored and would wander over to the Quintanas and take Diego back to my place. Sometimes I would go over to the Quintanas and Dante would have him in his little bounce seat just watching as Dante sketched or painted. He had hundreds of sketches of Diego. 

\-----

We took Diego to the desert when he was two, almost three. It was amazing how time seemed to fly. We were both students at the UTEP. Dante was an art major, his backup-education (his father teased him about it). I was majoring in education and my mother didn't tease me, but she did lecture me about being a teacher. She had all the answers, knew everything they couldn't teach you in college. 

Dante had a car and we used it to take Diego instead of my truck since research had shown that children were safer in the backseat. Diego was no longer a skinny baby with wild hair, but a skinny toddler with a chubby face and wild hair. He talked as much as Dante and the two of them could break a world record for the most conversations in an hour. 

"We're going to the desert?" He asked. 

"Yup," Dante told him. "It's our favorite spot. Yours too."

"Mine too?" Diego played with his toes inside of his sandals. He brought his big toe to his mouth. 

When we found our spot, Dante got out of the driver seat and went around to unbuckle his brother. He attacked him in kisses and took off his shoes.

"We won't be needing these," he said, eyeing them with disdain. I rolled my eyes. 

"You're a bad influence," I said. 

"Ari, hold me," Diego said, stretching in Dante's arms for me. 

I looked at Dante.

"Hold me!" Diego whined.

I took him.

We sat on a blanket that Dante had brought and watched the pink and orange and purple desert sky. There were a few dotted stars. Diego seemed content to sit between us as we told him stories about the stars, about the universe, his dark eyes big and glittering and intense. He was normally so fidgety, but now he sat still, climbing into his brother's lap. 

"Brother," he said. "Tell me about that."

He pointed.

Dante frowned, looking up. "What? That bird?"

"Yeah, that bird," Diego said. "About all the birds."

"What do you want to know?" Dante asked, resting his chin on his brother's head. He looked at me, trying not to smile.

"How do they stay up in the air?" Diego asked, but he wasn't done. "Why are there birds?"

"Don't you know?" I asked him, feigning surprise.

Diego shook his head.

"Birds teach us about the sky," I said.

"About the stars and the planets?" He asked. 

"Yes," Dante said. "All the secrets of the universe. Birds know them."

"And dogs?" Diego asked.

"And dogs," I agreed.

Diego stood up and jumped, trying to catch the birds flying overhead. We laughed at him. He enjoyed it. He made a show of jumping higher and higher, screeching into the vast openness. When he got tired, he came back to us, whining that he was thirsty. Dante gave him a bottle of coke from the car. We all laid down on the blanket, and Diego seemed to be getting sleepy. 

"I love you," Dante told him out of nowhere.

Diego was used to it.

" 'love you," he murmured back, rubbing at his eyes. 

To me he said, "Ari, I love you."

He wasn't saying it to remind me. He was saying it because I hadn't said it first. 

"I love you," I said dutifully. 

"We should get going," Dante said. "It's almost dark."

He picked Diego up and kissed him on the mouth, giving him a big squeeze.

"The best brother in the world," he said.

I watched as he put him back into his car seat, thinking of how lucky we all were. Diego for having Dante for a brother, Sam and Soledad for parents, my parents as stand-in parents. He was also lucky to have me, i guess. Maybe not now, but when he was older, he could confide in me because we were both little brothers of siblings with large age gaps. Dante and I were lucky to have Diego, to have two families. Two loving families who accepted boys kissing boys and loved us unconditionally. 

"My brother," Dante said after several minutes of silence on the way home.

"Mi hermano," I said in Spanish, grinning.  

 


End file.
